Trapped in This Memory
by Er-BearG32
Summary: Full Summary Inside: AU Season 8 – Lies, torture and never-ending humiliation. What happens when Sam, depressed and on the verge of suicide after Dean's disappearance, stumbles across someone – or something – who he believes is his brother, but really isn't? Already vulnerable, it doesn't take much for Sam to completely break apart when the inevitable happens.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **AU Season 8 – Lies, torture and never-ending humiliation. What happens when Sam, depressed and on the verge of suicide after Dean's disappearance, stumbles across someone – or something – who he believes is his brother, but really isn't? Already vulnerable, it doesn't take much for Sam to completely and utterly break apart when his worst fears, worst memories and Hell flashbacks are thrown at him all over again. Will there be any hope left when Dean finally finds him…or is Sam lost forever? Humiliated/Tortured/Suicidal/Given-upSam, Livid/Desperate/Impatient/Comforting big brotherDean, Awesome/HelpfulCharlie and Unsympathetic/AngryCastiel

**A/N- **Okay, I know many of you are waiting on the next chapter of "Nothing I Fear", but I have come to the conclusion, after much thought, that I will be putting that story on hold for the time being. I haven't been "feeling" it, so to speak, lately and I've had this new idea floating around in my head for quite a while now and to tell you the truth, I've been more excited for this story then that one. I try these days to not start a new story w/o finishing my current one, but I'm going to have to make an exception in this case. I will finish "Nothing I Fear", I promise, just not any time soon. Hopefully as I'm writing this one, my creative juices will start flowing again and I'll feel more up to finishing it.

**A/N2- **Just a forewarning, this story is **RATED M** for prolonged graphic torture and the death of a major character. I normally don't write M-rated stories, I usually try to stay away from that rating for fear that I'm going too far…but I've decided to put that fear aside and just go with it. So if the subject matter causes you discomfort in any way, I recommend you don't read this. The torture in this story is extreme and what I put Sam through in some of my past stories will be nothing compared to this. Also one more thing…

**A/N3- **I **HIGHLY **recommend all fans of the character of Castiel to either stay away and not read this, as the character is not dealt with in a kind manner in this particular story, or please don't review (unless of course you can handle it). I am **NOT **a fan of Castiel and really, a part of the reason I'm doing it this way is to get some of my anger and frustration towards him out. So if you do by any chance read this – I won't stop you if you do – I ask you to please **NOT **send me hate reviews or hate PMs or asking me to change the plot because I won't and I'll just block you from commenting if that happens. I'm not putting this out there to be mean, I'm not that type of person, but I just want to make things clear because I won't be holding back in this story, hence the rating; I'm also going to be putting Author's Notes in every chapter, just in case anybody chooses to skim through this or just ignore it in general.

**A/N4- **Now that that's all out of the way…if any of my readers/followers are still with me…I hope you enjoy! Reviews are welcome!

**Trapped in This Memory**

_Written by: Erin_

**Chapter 1**

It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore.

It didn't matter if any of this was supposed to happen, if it was just destined to happen from the beginning or not. Any tiny sliver of hope that he had left inside of him was gone, vanquished…it had disappeared all too long ago, along with who he used to be. How long had it been actually? Months? Years?

It didn't matter.

Ever since…THAT happened all that time ago, the days, months and possibly years all blended together into one. But then again, what did it matter if he knew what time of day it was, what day or year it was? Monsters weren't supposed to know that; monsters weren't supposed to receive any of that hope or love that he vaguely remembered ever receiving throughout his life.

Monster. That was what he was. He was a monster and that's what he was going to be for the rest of eternity, he just knew it.

And he couldn't care less anymore.

After all, his brother never lied to him. He was always telling him the truth, no matter how painful it was; it wasn't the first time he had ever been called a monster, so this was nothing new. But now…now he knew the extent of what that word really meant. How could he had not seen it before when it was staring him in the face, when the word was thrown at him?

_It doesn't matter, _The monster's thoughts flowed through his brain and for the first time that day, he didn't even pay any attention to the scorching, red-hot poker pain flowing through his entire body,

_I deserved it after all._

He deserved everything that was thrown his way and nobody could ever convince him otherwise. After all…his brother never lied to him. He always told him the truth. Dean always told him the truth.

Opening one hazel eye and taking in his surroundings again, the monster tilted his head back, not bothering to struggle against the chains that bound him and met Dean's hardened, green eyes from across the room. The monster stared straight into them and watched as the smirk appeared on his brother's face once again as he rose to his feet and walked towards him.

0000

_2 years prior…_

Sam's heart was hammering loudly in his chest as he looked around the now empty lab, save for himself, Kevin and Crowley, which was now covered in nothing but black goo. Dick Roman was dead, that was obvious; Dean and Castiel had killed him, he had seen it with his own two eyes…but where were his brother and the angel? The youngest Winchester's mouth was hanging open as sweat beaded on his brow and he met the Crossroad demon's dark eyes,

"Where are they, Crowley?!" He demanded once more, terror etched plainly in his trembling voice,

"What did you do-"

"Can't help you with that one, Sam," The demon smirked and rolled his eyes as he held up a hand to silent the hunter,

"You got what you wanted, didn't you?" He arched an eyebrow innocently and looked over Sam's shoulder at Kevin Tran, who had yet to move from where he was standing behind the younger Winchester brother,

"Dick's dead, you saved the world again, blah blah blah," Crowley rolled his eyes once again to the ceiling and allowed another cruel smile to stretch across his face,

"Sorry, Sam, wish I could help-"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Sam demanded, his voice lowering slightly although the trembling never left it. He glanced around the room once again, at the black goo covering every inch of the place…what was Crowley trying to tell him? That Dean was dead? No, that wasn't even possible; it couldn't be possible,

"Tell me, Crowley!" Still making sure he was standing in front of Kevin to try and shield him as much as possible, the younger hunter glared furiously at the King of Hell,

"Or so help me God-"

"God?" Crowley snorted loudly,

"Oh, come on, moose, don't you know by now that GOD left the building a long time ago?" He was silent for a few moments before adding with a smile,

"Your brother's dead, by the way. You know, you should've checked that bone in advance before you decided to go and gank Dick Roman's ass." He shrugged his shoulders and smirked in Sam's direction,

"Those God bones tend to have a kink in them, you see?"

Sam was already shaking his head as Crowley was talking. Demons lied, they always lied and Crowley was no stranger to that; he had learned his lesson years ago when he had made the fatal mistake to trust Ruby, so why in the hell should he believe what the Crossroad's demon was saying? Dean wasn't dead, he wasn't; he would know if his big brother was gone forever…wouldn't he? Shaking his head in desperation once again, the youngest Winchester couldn't exactly answer that question honestly. Would he really be able to tell if Dean was indeed dead or not?

Yes, Castiel had taken the worst of his Hell hallucinations and memories, he had taken the insanity that was eating away at his own head from the results of his collapsed wall…but just because he was – for all intents and purposes – healed, that didn't mean that all memory of his time down in Lucifer's Cage was wiped clean from his mind. That didn't mean that it was clean slate.

He still knew what happened down there, he would always remember for the rest of his life, but the intensity and the pain he was experiencing from the collapsed wall was taken from him. But at the same time, the younger Winchester had only been healed barely even 2 months ago, he was still tired and even up until that very day, Sam still found himself looking over his shoulder for Lucifer and his voice ringing in his ears; he still found himself looking down at the long-healed scar on his left hand.

_Stone number one, _Dean had made that quite clear to him earlier that year. His big brother was, and always would be, that "stone number one". No matter what they had been through, no matter who they had lost along the way – friends, family and most recently, Bobby – they were each other's stone number one and that was something Sam always had to remind himself, both in his head and physically.

But what if that "stone number one" was taken from him? What if that "stone number one" in the form of his big brother just…disappeared? Died? Then what?

A few tears built up in Sam's large, hazel eyes as he stared straight at Crowley, still shaking his head,

"You're lying…" He choked up, pushing back the tears that were threatening to fall at any minute. Crying in front of his bastard was the last thing he was going to do,

"Where's my brother, you son of a bitch?!" His hands trembling madly, the hunter reached into his back pocket and pulled out Ruby's demon-killing knife, holding it in front of him so that the demon could see it,

"Where is he?"

Not one to be swayed so easily by Sam Winchester and his threats, Crowley shook his head and let out a long sigh,

"Moose, you never learn, do you?" His smirk widened as he looked Sam straight in the eye,

"Your brother and that pet angel of yours…let's just say you won't be seeing them again any time soon." Fake sympathy formed on his face as he said his next words,

"Oh, don't look so glum, Sam. Things could be worse." With a quick head tilt and jerk of his hand, Crowley watched as he flung Sam's body to the other side of the room, ignoring the younger hunter's cries as he was stuck to the wall, right over a large pile of black goo…for all Sam knew, could be leftover remains of his brother himself.

"Sam!" Kevin cried out, speaking up for the first time in the last couple of minutes as he watched what was taking place between the demon and the hunter. Before he could say or do anything else, however, he felt himself unable to move from his very spot and soon found himself face to face with the Crossroad's demon,

"What do you want?"

"What do I want?" Crowley smirked and shot a wide-eyed look over at Sam, who was currently shouting curses his direction, but the demon ignored it and continued,

"I'll tell you what I want, what I need." He stepped away from Kevin for a brief moment and glared dangerously over at Sam, who was struggling relentlessly,

"What I need is for Winchester Jumbo Size to not follow me, to not come after me, to not KILL me…and I know that he would do just that if I ended up taking this dear ol' prophet over here." He narrowed his eyes at Kevin hatefully,

"You don't matter. We can always replace you with someone who won't attempt to run and hide. It's that easy."

"W-What?" The young prophet stuttered, confusion flowing through his body,

"What do you mean 'replace me'? Replace me to do what-"

Before the young, confused prophet could continue and before Sam knew what was happening, the next thing the hunter heard was the snap of Crowley's fingers and he gasped loudly as the young human's body exploded right in front of his very eyes. Sam didn't even have time to comprehend what was happening until it was too late and he closed his hazel eyes tightly as he felt Kevin's blood dripping down his own body and onto the floor. Loud, harsh gasps escaped Sam's lips and he forced his eyes open and immediately wished he had kept them shut when all he saw, on top of the black goo from Dick Roman's death, was dark red blood dripping off the walls and his own body.

And Crowley was nowhere to be found.

With a harsh gasp, Sam soon felt himself sliding off of the wall and collapsed in a heap in dark red blood – Kevin's blood – on the floor, right next to the demon-killing knife, which had fallen from his hand.

"Oh my God…" Nearing hyperventilation, the younger Winchester brother shakily rose to his feet and nearly collapsed back onto the floor,

"Oh my God…Kevin…"

This couldn't be happening; Kevin Tran was never supposed to have gotten involved in this to begin with! He was just an innocent kid, minding his own business; he was supposed to go to college and make a life for himself! He had his whole life ahead of him…and now, now all that was taken away from him in just a matter of seconds.

All because of him. All because he was unable to protect him, to shield him from Crowley and his demons. The kid was now dead – DEAD! – because of Sam Winchester, the very hunter who caused trouble and damage to everything and anything he touched.

Never-ending guilt tore through Sam's body and he soon felt himself shaking once again from head to toe and he collapsed in a heap again on the ground in Kevin's blood, feeling the red liquid seep through his jeans and watched it drench his hands. But the young man paid no attention to it.

This was all his fault.

Kevin was dead, killed, murdered. Castiel was most likely dead…or just disappeared; he was an angel, what happened to angels in situations like this? And Dean…

"Dean…?" Sam whispered to himself, finally allowing a few tears to fall from his pained eyes and down his cheeks. If Dean saw him now…he could only imagine the kind of disappointment he would be bringing to his older brother, what kind of anger. He had already let his brother down one too many times over the years; the things he had done and the ways he had betrayed Dean…he never deserved to be forgiven for any of that shit, but his brother had always had it in his heart to do it anyways and now, just when they were getting closer again despite everything…he had once again let him down in the worst way imaginable,

"Dean…"

0000

The explosion was powerful and disastrous, nearly knocking Sam right off of his feet as the ground practically shook under him. Before collapsing next to the classic Chevy Impala, which had been driven straight through a glass sign by Meg hours earlier, the younger Winchester shot one desperate look behind him as SucroCorp – the entire building, the lab, everything – exploded and fire balls shot into the air, the smoke surrounding him making it difficult for Sam to breathe.

Letting out a hacking cough, one that racked through his entire body as he stumbled over towards Dean's beloved Impala and collapsed beside her rear tire, Sam cringed as he stared straight off into the distance at what used to be the building where those dreaded Leviathans would plot to destroy the world again.

But they had already destroyed the world…his world at least. What kind of world was there when Dean wasn't in it? Cheeks flushed red from the heat surrounding him on all sides, Sam let out as many easy breaths as he could, but he was still finding it difficult to breathe. Coughing harshly once again, the younger man knew that there was only one thing he had to do right now and that was to get out of here as quickly as possible.

Kevin was dead. Cas was possibly dead and Dean was dead. He was all alone right now and who knew what other kind of trouble would follow him if he stayed on his ass?

Not that that mattered anyways…but he still knew that Dean would kill him himself if he didn't get his ass out of here now.

Wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket, attempting to get some of the grime and dirt out of them, Sam slowly stumbled to his feet, but nearly collapsed back onto the ground when his knee buckled from under him,

"Goddamnit!" He hissed, feeling an intense pain slicing through his leg, but after a few tense seconds, Sam bit his lip and chose to ignore that agony as he pushed himself all the way up again. No pain could ever compare to the pain in his heart from Dean's death; no pain could ever match up to the empty feeling that was creeping into his chest and into his heart.

That empty, hollow feeling…one that he completely remembered all those years ago when the Trickster had placed him into a time loop, forcing him to relive Dean's death over and over again, before taking him away permanently for 6 months…and worst of all, being forced to watch that same big brother being torn apart by Hellhounds in front of his very eyes. No matter how many years passed, it didn't matter; it still felt just like yesterday and it would never go away. That same hollow feeling was back at full force; that place in his heart where Dean always resided…Gone.

Pushing aside any leftover tears that were threatening his eyes as guilt, despair and grief threatened to tear him apart, Sam leaned against the Impala's back door and rested his head on the top of the car.

What was he supposed to do now? Was there anybody even left in his life that could help him get Dean back? No demons would ever deal with him; witches were out of the question and the King of Hell himself had said that his big brother was dead. All of their friends and family were dead and gone as well…Reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out his cell phone, Sam breathed his first sigh of relief in hours when he saw that, despite a cracked screen, the battery was still working and after a quick scroll through his contacts, his heart nearly skipped a beat when he came across two names that he had almost forgotten about.

Two names, two friends who weren't dead…two people who just might be able to help him. They might be able to help him figure out whether Crowley was lying straight through his teeth about his brother or whether Dean…Well, Sam didn't even want to think of that other option.

Because in reality, a life without his brother by his side – it didn't matter what type of version of Dean he ended up with – was much, much worse then not having him at all.

Wiping a hand down his face, Sam let out a shaky breath as he clutched his phone in one hand and then attempted to open the Impala's front door with the other, thankfully finding it still being able to open despite being smashed into a plate of glass. Glancing down at the ignition, he let out one more breath when he spotted the car keys still dangling there, as if Meg had crashed the car and took off, leaving Dean's Baby where anybody could get to her. Pulling the keys out of the ignition and sticking them in his pocket for the time being, Sam scrolled down to the name Jody Mills on his phone and hit "Send". Holding his breath as he expected to hear ringing on the other end of the line, the youngest Winchester soon let it out and closed his eyes tightly, devastation flooding him when the automated voice sounded in his ear,

"_The number you have dialed has been disconnected. Please check the number and dial again."_

With a shake of his head, Sam hit "End" before going to the next name he had his eye on – Garth – and once again hit the "Send" button. This was his very lost option; if Garth didn't pick up, if his number was disconnected or worse…if he was dead-

"Took you long enough, moose."

Sam's eyes widened in shock, then horror, as the familiar voice spoke in his right ear. No. No, this was not happening,

"Crowley."

"I'm surprised, moose," Sam could tell, just from the demon's words, that he was sneering on the other end of the line,

"Did you really think you would be able to call these last remaining friends and NOT have me know about it? Really, Sam, do I look that dumb to you?"

"Where's Garth, Crowley?" Sam demanded, his voice shaking with each syllable.

"Oh, he's right beside me," The demon replied, removing the phone from his ear and placing it on speaker phone and before Sam could even comprehend what was happening, or try and figure out whether Crowley was lying again, Garth's frightened voice sounded over the phone.

"Sam, don't do anything that he says-"

"Now, I'd say that's enough talk for now," Crowley snickered, clicking the speaker off and placing it back to his ear,

"Now you know I'm not lying to you, Sammy."

"Why are you doing this?" The younger Winchester's voice choked up as he spoke the few words and he shook his head,

"Why are you doing this, Crowley?"

"Why do you think, Gigantor?" The Crossroad's demon demanded with a roll of his eyes as he turned his attention to the skinny hunter he had tied to a chair in the middle of the room, the knife he had in his hand pressed against Garth's throat,

"Let's see, Kevin was just in the way – but you already know that – I can easily replace him with a new prophet to do what needs to be done…one that doesn't even know you bloody Winchesters."

"What are you talking about?" Sam demanded, his heart racing as he took in Crowley's words. He was growing more and more confused by the second.

Ignoring Sam's voice, the demon smiled as blood starting dripping from Garth's neck from the knife,

"Course, I can't have you going around doing all of that; I couldn't have you and that brother of yours go around killing me and I know how much that dear ol' brother of yours means to you and I know you won't have any other family or friends left after this." He smiled as heard what sounded exactly like a choked sob coming from the other end of the phone,

"So this is the easiest way to deal with the trouble I like to call you two." He paused,

"Any last words?"

"Crowley, don't-" Before Sam could finish, the unmistakable sound of gasping and choking came on the other end of the line and the younger man clenched the phone tighter in his hand as he shouted,

"Garth! Garth, answer me!"

"Till next time, moose."

And the line went dead.

"No…no, no, no, no…" Sam was nearing hyperventilation as the only sound he heard in his ear now was the familiar buzzing of a dead line,

"No, please God, no…" Tears building up in his eyes and starting to slowly run down his cheeks against his will, Sam looked down at his phone and pressed Jody Mills' number one last time, slowly nearing complete and utter despair.

"_The number you have dialed has been disconnected. Please check the number and dial again."_

Did Crowley get to Jody as well? Kevin and Garth were now dead because of him…killed by Crowley, just because he was trying to save as many people as he could…but what about Jody?

With another shake of his head, Sam let out a loud growl and threw his phone to the ground right beside his feet and watched the pieces shatter before burying his face deep into his hands. This was all his fault. All of it.

Crowley was right. He really was well and truly on his own.

0000

All he saw around him was darkness and the only sounds he heard coming from all directions were growling and hissing of the very monsters he and Sam hunted. Pushing himself up to his feet and rising to take in his surroundings, Dean's green eyes widened in shock and fear as realization soon set in. It didn't take a genius to figure out where exactly he was.

Purgatory.

That was the only logical explanation after having killed Dick Roman with Castiel at his side.

"Shit," He growled to himself as he stood as still as a statue. This was not good, not good at all,

"Cas?" He took a step forward and looked around him, hoping to find the familiar angel somewhere nearby; after all, Castiel had been with him when they had sent Dick Roman packing…but where was he know? He was right beside him when everything had gone down, so he had to have been sent here as well, but the familiar trench-coat wearing angel was nowhere to be seen, even in the darkness, which Dean's eyes were slowly starting to get used to,

"Cas!"

But instead of the familiar sound of the angel's voice telling him he was nearby, that he hadn't deserted him, Dean's fear picked up as he soon realized he was very much alone in a place reserved for monsters only. Which meant…if he was in Purgatory and Castiel was nowhere to be found…where did that leave Sam? The last time he had seen his baby brother, he had just barged into the lab with Kevin on his heels and right before his entire world had dissolved into nothing but blackness, he had seen a look of terror etched on Sam's face.

"Sammy…" He breathed out as he looked around him once more as the snarling noises of the monsters grew closer.

0000

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N- **This story is **RATED M **for intense sequences of violence, torture and of course language. If any of that bothers you, then this probably isn't the right story for you.

**A/N2- **Castiel is not treated in a kind or sympathetic manner in this story and I'm sure there will be scenes that will cause some of his fans to not be happy with, so if any of that bothers you, I recommend you steer clear of this story because I won't put up with any "hate" reviews. (Just a forewarning, just in case!) If it doesn't bother you, then by all means, I'd love for you to read and review!

**Chapter 2**

A part of him knew that this was not something he should be doing; it wasn't something he should even consider, especially if he wanted to not be killed by the likes of Dean Winchester.

Because if Dean ever found out the truth – which he most certainly would if he ever made it out of Purgatory – and refused to listen to his reasons, then the consequences would be horrible and he'd wind up paying a price higher then he'd ever paid before. It would make that time when he had knowingly sent that wall in Sam Winchester's head crumbling to dust look like nothing…and he had nearly killed the younger man!

But this was different. There was no time to consider another option; he had to think of the bigger picture here and that bigger picture did not involve taking care of Sam while his brother was trapped in Purgatory. Yes, he was almost certain that after he and Dean had been zapped to Purgatory and the angel had been spit right back out and sent back up to Heaven, Sam more then likely probably thought that they both were dead and gone.

But Sam Winchester wasn't his problem right now; he never was. There were much bigger issues to deal with.

Like those tablets for starters.

If Dean's brother got his hands on that angel tablet – the demon tablet was a whole other story – that would cause so much trouble up in Heaven…and if he knew the Winchesters at all, he knew that it wouldn't be too long before Sam found both tablets and a prophet before he got busy translating them.

Castiel wouldn't allow that to happen. And if that meant that he would have to pull some strings and lie once again, then that's what he would do. Taking care of his Home was more important then taking care of a hunter whose brother was no longer around to babysit him.

_Not necessarily, _The angel tiled his head to the side and furrowed his brow as he concentrated long and hard,

_He'll have his brother…just not his real brother. And he'll keep him away from the tablets, he'll turn his attention to something else other then the tablets._

Heaven forbid if Dean ever found out what he was about to do; the older brother was a mother hen when it came to Sam and for as long as Castiel knew both Winchesters, Dean always did his best to make sure that nobody hurt his little brother, and whenever they did, they always suffered the consequences for it.

Even he himself nearly got killed by the mighty Dean Winchester after he had nearly killed Sam.

But that was different. That was then. Times had changed, things were different now and much more was at stake, so the angel was going to have to do whatever was possible to stop Sam Winchester. After all, desperate times called for desperate actions. Sure, he had never done anything such as this before; it was actually quite dangerous as a matter of fact. But that wasn't important to the angel right then. It wasn't important in the grand scheme of things that the being he was about to pull out of another universe was quite dangerous and quite cruel; he knew of the things this other version of Dean Winchester had done to his own brother – he had killed his little brother many years ago actually – but he was also smarter then the real Dean Winchester was; he had never played mother hen to his brother when more important things needed to be taken care of and that characteristic in him was exactly what the angel needed at a time like this.

Certainty filled him and he smiled slightly as he looked around the plush, green garden and the rolling hills in the distance, his dark eyes straining – searching – for something, or someone…that particular someone who was going to play a huge roll in his master plan.

Suddenly sensing a presence behind him, Castiel turned around and came face to face with an identical version of Dean Winchester, all the way down to the leather jacket he had worn when Dick Roman had been killed,

"You came."

Nodding his head in confirmation, Dean's green eyes narrowed in hatred as he folded his arms across his chest,

"Spit it out. What is it you need me to do?"

0000

It had been the longest, most depressing month for Sam; there was never a day that went by that he didn't think about Dean, that he didn't think that his big brother was now gone forever because of him.

That Kevin Tran, Garth and possibly Jody as well, were all dead…all because of him. All because he was still breathing.

There was never a day that went by that the younger Winchester didn't think about the sickening sound of knife slicing against flesh when Crowley had sliced Garth's throat over the phone; when Crowley had snapped his fingers and Kevin had been killed right in front of him, his blood splattering all over the lab…when Dean had disappeared – had died, exploded – into a pile of black goo never to be seen again.

A day never went by when Sam didn't finger the gun resting on the bed beside his hip, ready to end his god-forsaken life, ready to take the life that had caused so much pain and death.

His own life.

There had even been a moment just the other night when Sam, drunk out of his mind and a beer bottle in his trembling hand, had taken Dean's beloved Chevy Impala and was fully prepared to drive it off of a cliff, ready to end it all. Because what was the point anymore? There was none.

His reason for living, for breathing, for anything, was gone.

Gone.

What had stopped him, though? If he was honest with himself, Sam could barely even remember days later; the only thing he could think of was that the last thing he wanted to do was to destroy Dean's beloved Baby…the only home he and his brother had ever known. If she was gone…well, Sam didn't even want to think about that.

_Why am I still even alive? _The thoughts kept entering the youngest Winchester's mind as he finished off the last of his alcohol and slammed it down on the bedside table beside him and fingered the gun once again that was resting beside of him and picked it up,

_I don't deserve to be alive, not after…Not after killing everybody I've ever loved, including Dean…_

"_Looks like you are well and truly on your own."_

"_Well and truly on your own."_

"_On your own."_

Squeezing his hazel eyes shut as tightly as he could, Sam dropped the gun and brought his hands up to the sides of his head, grabbing his long hair and pulling,

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up, damnit!" Nearing hyperventilation, the younger hunter slowly opened his eyes and looked around the motel room, from the ugly yellow walls to the television and then finally landing on the second bed right beside his on the other side of the table,

"Dean…" He choked out miserably before clenching his eyes shut again.

Oh, he would do anything – anything at all – if it meant there was even a possibility he could get his big brother back. He would take any form of Dean he was offered – a demon, a shapeshifter, it didn't matter! But really, how was any of that even possible now?

Every friend and family member he ever had was dead and gone; no demons would ever deal with him; he had SEEN Dean and Castiel explode right in front of his very eyes and Crowley's words continued to echo loudly in his brain. Even if Dean was alive somewhere, how in the hell was he supposed to even know where to begin? He had tried just for the hell of it to even call his brother's cell phone number, but all he had gotten was the message,

"_Your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please check the number and dial again."_

The same type of message he had gotten when he had tried to get a hold of Jody Mills.

But then again, it wasn't like Sam deserved to have his brother back into his life; he had let his brother down one too many times over the years. He deserved this. He deserved to be alone in this landfill that was called the world. If there was anything that he deserved after everything that he had done over the years, it was this…plus more.

Blinking back tears and running a shaking hand through his long hair, Sam let out a long, shaky breath before reaching towards the gun once more and fingering it in his hands. It would be so easy, so simple. All he would have to do was place the cool metal up against the side of his head and pull the trigger.

And it would be all over. Done. Finished.

Checking the gun to make sure the bullets were still in place, the youngest Winchester nodded his head and with disgust, swiped away the few tears that escaped his large, hazel eyes. He didn't deserve to cry; he didn't deserve to shed emotion over something that was his fault to begin with.

As soon as his tears were wiped away, they were soon replaced by a few more. Disgust flowing through him with every fiber of his being, Sam was about to wipe those away as well before stopping himself mid-swipe and shook his head. It didn't matter. None of it mattered.

Reaching into the bedside drawer and pulling out one more bottle of liquor, Sam unscrewed the cap and shakily brought it to his lips, allowing the burning sensation to flow down his throat and into his system. With a heavy sigh, the younger Winchester brother closed his eyes tightly for a moment before screwing the cap back on the bottle and set it back down on the bed before grasping onto the gun once more and holding it firmly in his trembling hands.

The tears now flowing freely down his cheeks, Sam reached into the pocket of his jeans and immediately felt the familiar feel of the very item he had kept hidden all these years…away from Dean.

The amulet. The very amulet he had saved from the trash a couple of years ago after his brother had tossed it out after losing his faith in everything and everyone – including him. But Sam remembered all too clearly how he had refused to leave it sitting there; he was determined to one day regain his brother's faith, his trust, his love…and he had been hoping against hope that Dean would have found it sitting in his duffel bag after he had plunged into Lucifer's Cage, but that had never happened. Once his soul was back in place, and all of his memories from Hell had resurfaced after Castiel had knocked down his wall, Sam had dug into that same duffel once Dean's back was turned and made sure he kept it either in jeans pocket or in his jacket at all times, waiting…just waiting for that right time to return it to him.

And now he was too late. Again.

Pulling the little gold pendent out from pocket and holding it in the hand that wasn't holding the gun, Sam just stared at it for a few moments, memories washing over him, before he set the gun aside and slipped the black cord around his neck and let the charm fall against his chest, just like it had done right before he had buried Dean's body after his Crossroad's deal had come due.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," He whispered to himself, voice trembling uncontrollably,

"I'm so sorry…" The younger Winchester reached a shaking hand up and clutched the little gold amulet tightly in his hand and closed his eyes for a moment before picking the gun back up. With a shaky breath, he opened his watery eyes and rose to his unsteady feet, holding the pistol tightly in his hand; if he was going to do this, then he needed to do this now, to get it over and done with,

"I'm doing this for you…" If there was one thing that he could ever make right, to do selflessly for the first time in his pathetic existence, it was this. On shaky legs, he slowly made his way into the bathroom and shut the door partially before taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub, his gaze never leaving the gun. If he was going to do this, the least he could do was not cause such a huge mess in the bedroom for the maids to clean up.

His hand trembling madly, both from the amount of alcohol he had recently consumed and from a fear unlike any other, Sam closed his eyes and raised the gun to place it right underneath his chin. His finger was right on the trigger, ready to pull, when the unmistakable sound of the motel room door opening caused Sam's wet, hazel eyes to open wide and lower the gun. Who was that? Who would have the key to his motel room? Looking down at the gun still resting in his hand, the young hunter rose shakily to his feet and just stood there for a few tense moments until he heard the familiar voice.

"Sam? Sam, you in here?"

"D-Dean…?" Sam's voice was so quiet, he was sure his brother couldn't hear him,

"Dean…" Tears making their way freely down his face and off his chin, Sam looked almost longingly down at the silver gun in his right hand before placing it down on the bathroom sink. With a trembling hand, he pulled the bathroom door all the way open and stuck his head out, searching for that voice he would know anywhere.

And there he was.

His brother. His big brother.

Dean.

But how…? How was that possible?

Blinking his eyes rapidly, Sam furrowed his brow as he stared at his big brother standing right there in the doorway, looking just as he did a month ago, only dirtier. He was still wearing the same leather jacket and the same shirt he had worn the night Dick Roman had been killed…Really, the only difference was the stubble on the older hunter's face, the dirty hair and the ripped jeans. Other then that…

"You just gonna stand there, Sam?" Dean's harsh voice broke the younger brother out of his trance as he shrugged out of his dirty jacket and threw it over the back of the chair beside the door,

"Thanks for nothing, by the way."

"Y-You're alive?" Sam ignored his brother's harsh words as he took a shaky step forward and ran a hand through his long hair before he shook his head,

"I-I-"

"Yeah, I'm alive, Sam," Dean snapped with a roll of his eyes,

"What, let me guess, you thought I was dead, right?" He turned his head with a raised eyebrow to stare at Sam's tear-streaked face,

"Get over it, little brother; I'm fine…Not that you care or anything, of course…I mean, you did leave me to rot down there, didn't you?" He shrugged his shoulders carelessly and shrugged out of his overshirt next,

"Oh well, can't do anything about it now, Sammy." The nickname dripped with sarcasm off his tongue as he smirked in Sam's direction.

Still not paying any attention to the harsh words coming from Dean's mouth, Sam took another step forward and closed the distance between them as he grabbed his big brother up in a bone-crushing hug, wrapping his trembling arms around him tightly. It didn't matter what Dean was saying, he was here. He was alive. Right here in the same motel room as he was…He wasn't dead.

Not even bothering to care that he probably smelled like alcohol, Sam just tightened his arms around Dean's shoulders and buried his tear-streaked face into his shoulder. Dean could yell at him all he wanted; he could accuse him of anything for all he cared; nothing could feel worse then that last month of being all alone without his big brother by his side.

But before Sam could enjoy the feel of being able to hold onto his big brother again, even though he didn't feel Dean's arms around him returning the hug – which he would admit to himself that it did hurt – the younger Winchester all too quickly felt Dean shrug out of his hold and push him away,

"None of that chick flicky stuff, Sam, alright?" He growled as he met his little brother's wide, hazel eyes. He was about to say something more when his eyes landed on Sam's chest, locking on the little gold amulet dangling from around his neck,

"What the hell is that?" Seeing the shocked look on the younger brother's face, Dean glared daggers at him and held out his hand,

"Give it to me."

Nearly forgetting that the amulet was still hanging around his neck, Sam looked down at the gold charm and fingered it slowly before bringing it up and over his neck, just like he had done a few years back when his brother had returned from Hell,

"I'm sorry, Dean; I-I forgot I had it on-"

"Whatever," Dean snapped back,

"Just let me have it, alright?"

"It-It always belonged to you, Dean…" The younger Winchester shakily continued, his voice low as he spoke,

"I-I wanted to wait until the right time-" His words were cut off as Dean snatched the treasured necklace from his loose grip and held it in his own hand,

"Dean?" A tense silence filled the air as he attempted to meet his brother's furious gaze. He didn't blame Dean at all that he was pissed at him for keeping this from him; he didn't blame him that he wasn't even putting it back on. He didn't deserve that from his big brother, his best friend-

"I'm gonna grab a shower and then we're hitting the road again," Dean's terse voice finally broke the silence and Sam watched as he fisted the amulet his fingers, crushing it in his palm,

"Be ready when I am, you hear me?"

With a jerky puppet's nod of his head, Sam kept his eyes on his brother as he looked around the room,

"Don't tell me you dumped my stuff just because you thought I was dead?"

"Your bag's in the trunk, right where you left it-"

"Right," Dean interrupted as he crossed to the room and grabbed the Impala's keys off of one of the tables before heading towards the door. Sam's eyes never left his big brother as he watched Dean stand in the doorway, looking down at the trashcan sitting off to the side. That exact moment when his brother did that same thing those few years ago flashed before the younger Winchester's eyes as Dean turned to look at him over his shoulder and smirked at him before opening his hand and dropping the amulet back in the trashcan,

"It's where it belongs, Sam."

And Sam's heart shattered into a million pieces.

0000

"You're telling me that there's no way out of here?" Dean demanded of the creature standing in front of him, blade clenched tightly in his hand as he pressed it up against its throat,

"Because if there is and you're lying-"

"What are you gonna do about it, big boy?" The shapeshifter that looked exactly like his baby brother smirked even as he felt the blade up against his throat. One wrong move and he'd be dead for certain,

"Kill me? Because I've been here much longer then you have and really, Dean, would you really have the guts to kill something that looks just like that baby brother of yours? Sammy is his name?"

His green eyes staring daggers at the monster in front of him, Dean's hand shook desperately as he shook his head,

"Don't temp me. Is there a way or isn't there?"

"You won't get the answer from me, Dean Winchester," The creature growled as he glared right back at the hunter,

"Go on. Kill me. Let's see what you got-"

Before the monster could say anything else, Dean moved his hand and sliced its throat, watching as the life drained away from the creature who dared to take on his little brother's face and voice. Nobody dared to pretend to be his Sammy and taunt him!

"I'll get back to you, kiddo, I swear I'll find a way."

0000

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N- **This story is **RATED M **for graphic and prolonged torture, violence and language of course. If any of this bothers you in anyway, then this probably isn't the right story to read.

**A/N2- **Castiel is not treated in a kind or sympathetic manner in this story and I'm sure some people might be unhappy with the way he'll be written, so if any of this bothers you, then I highly recommend not reading this (I won't be offended if you choose not to, but I won't put up with any "hate" reviews or "hate" PMs); but if it doesn't bother, then by all means, I would love for you to read and review!

**Chapter 3**

The lights were still dim in the same motel room as Sam sat as still as a statue on one of the beds, the same place he had sat not even an hour ago as he had contemplated taking his very life. The gun had been cradled in his hands as he had went over and over in his mind if whether it was the right thing to do.

Now, that same gun sat beside him on the bedside table – the same place he had put it after Dean had found it sitting on the bathroom sink – while in his hands he now held the very amulet that his brother had chosen to throw out for the second time…except Dean didn't know that he had picked it up yet again. Dean didn't need to know that; he would no doubt kill him if he found out.

Not that that mattered of course. He deserved nothing less.

He deserved all of the words his big brother had thrown at him; he deserved to see that look of absolute disgust thrown his way. Hell, he would have done the same thing to himself if he were in Dean's shoes.

As soon as his brother's back had disappeared into the bathroom, only to appear a few moments later with the gun that he had practically thrown at him, Sam had cautiously and quietly walked over to the trash can and had just stared down at the discarded necklace for a few torturous moments, memories washing over him and consuming him. After hearing the shower turning on in the bathroom, Sam had knelt down and reached inside to retrieve the treasured amulet once more.

How could he had been so stupid? Did he seriously think, when Dean had walked into the room, that his brother would not have seen it? Or was he way too wrapped up in his own misery and his own selfishness to even think about it?

Either way, it didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore.

Nothing except Dean that was. Dean was the only one who mattered and whatever his brother said, whatever he did, he had no choice but to believe him.

He owed him that much.

He deserved his brother's wrath, his anger, his words…and anything else that was to come. Dean had refused to tell him where exactly he had been the past month and why he had disappeared after he and Castiel had killed Dick Roman; but then again, Sam didn't even attempt to ask. His big brother would tell him when he was damn good and ready and he sure wasn't ready now.

Finally moving as he heard the shower turning off, the youngest Winchester lifted a trembling hand and wiped away the few tears threatening his hazel eyes and clenched the amulet in his fist. A part of him debated over whether putting it back in the same place Dean had dropped – putting it back in the trash can where his brother believed it belonged – but just as he was climbing off the bed, amulet still fisted in his hand, Sam's heart dropped all over again and he shook his head.

No.

No, he couldn't do that to Dean. What if…What if somewhere along the line his brother would want it back?

"_It's where it belongs, Sam." _

"_Where it belongs, Sam."_

"_Where it belongs…"_

The never-ending mantra of Dean's words echoed loudly in Sam's brain; no, Dean would never want it back, but…he couldn't just leave it there, in some stinky motel trash can. It wasn't possible. Shaking his head again, the younger brother shoved the amulet deep into his pocket and just hoped that Dean wouldn't notice that he had grabbed it yet again.

"I thought I told you to be ready to leave by the time I was out of the shower, Sam!" Dean's loud voice caused Sam to jump and whirl around as he saw his brother walk out of the steamy bathroom, shrugging into a blue overshirt as he walked, his green eyes narrowed into slits as they focused on Sam,

"You just gonna stand there like some freak?" He smirked as he saw the slight flinch go through the younger Winchester at the use of that word,

"The bags aren't in the car, none of your shit is packed up and that gun is still resting on the nightstand." He snorted and rolled his eyes to the ceiling before shooting another glare Sam's way,

"I swear, Sammy, you are one hell of a retard if I've ever seen one…" Ignoring the way his brother flinched once again and looked down at the ground, all the while nodding his head, Dean shoved past him and shouted over his shoulder as he made his way to the door,

"Now get a move on! You also need to check yourself out of this piece of shit motel!" Grabbing his jacket and shrugging into it as he opened the door to the motel room, Dean was about to step outside when Sam's voice stopped him.

"Dean…?" Sam gulped and turned around to face his brother,

"Are you…I mean, are you sure we should be head out now…" He nodded outside,

"I mean, it is quite late and you haven't even bothered to sleep-"

"What's your point?" Dean demanded, folding his arms across his chest, his glare still present on his face.

"I just think we should just lay low until morning, that's all-"

"I think you've 'laid low' enough this past month, don't you?" Dean mocked, taking a step closer to the youngest Winchester,

"I mean, really, Sam; it's not like you cared enough to try and find me this past month after all. Hell, I'll bet you anything that you had that gun in the bathroom because you were going to kill yourself, weren't you?" Not giving Sam a chance to speak, Dean went on, ignoring the tears in his brother's eyes,

"You selfish, selfish son of a bitch…" With one more glare, he made his way closer to his little brother and reached out to grab the front of Sam's shirt, yanking him close enough so that he could smell the alcohol on Sam's breath,

"You never think of anybody but yourself, don't you? I'll bet it never even occurred to you that I was, oh let's see, ALIVE and in fucking Purgatory!" Pushing Sam away from him and watching him lose his footing and falling to the floor, Dean continued,

"That's what I thought." Reaching towards Sam's bag, he threw it on the floor beside his little brother and snapped,

"Get your shit together and meet me out in the car in less then five minutes or I'm leaving your ass here, you hear me?"

Sam didn't move from where he was lay sprawled on the floor, even as his brother stalked out of the motel room, leaving the door wide open behind him. He blinked back more tears from his eyes at his big brother's words, refusing to let himself show any signs of weakness at the moment; he didn't deserve that, not after what he had done.

Dean was right. Dean was always right. That's all there was to it.

Sucking in a long breath, Sam started to rise to his feet, but was unable to hold back a cry when his knee almost gave out from under him – the same knee that he had injured the month before while blowing up SucroCorp but had refused to get it checked out. Clutching it tightly with both hands, Sam bit his lower lip and closed his eyes as pain flowed through lower leg.

"Get it together, Sam," He hissed under his breath, but just as he attempted to take a step forward, his leg had other ideas and the next thing Sam knew, just as he reached out to grab onto the nearby table to steady himself, he felt his leg completely give out from under him. As he fell to the ground once again, his hand slipped on the table and he cursed loudly as the table fell over right onto his bad leg,

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" He cursed over and over again as excruciating pain flowed through his entire leg. Forcing back more tears, Sam nodded his head as he gripped the table and with every ounce of strength he could muster, was able to lift it off of him and pushed it aside, leaving it laying on the ground beside him,

"Okay…Get a hold of yourself, Winchester, it's not that bad…it's just your leg, you've had worse…"

Yes, like losing his big brother. That type of pain was not something he could ever live through.

That was already proven.

Who cared whether or not he was injured? That pain…that was something he could deal with, it was something he could live with.

And he wasn't about to let Dean down again, not when he finally had him back in his life.

Biting his lip until it bled, the youngest Winchester pushed himself up stubbornly and forced himself to remain on his feet as he hobbled around the motel room, shoving every item that he brought in here into his duffel bag. Just as he reached the gun beside the bed and picked it up, turning it over in his shaking hands, he jumped as the sound of the Impala's engine sounded from right outside the door. Shoving the gun into his duffel, Sam grabbed the motel key and his bag before limping towards the door, ignoring the shooting pain flowing through him.

He wasn't going to tell Dean about this. Dean didn't deserve to hear him whining over something as stupid as a knee injury; he had his own problems to deal with.

Problems that were never his fault.

Problems like little brothers who were abominations and freaks and disappointments…such as himself. And for that, Sam would never forgive himself for.

0000

Dean leaned back on the log he was sitting on and let his back rest up against the tree behind him, the long, slender knife he clutched in his hands resting between his knees. Turning his head and looking down at the now-headless vampire he had just taken care of, the oldest Winchester let out a long sigh and ran a rough hand over his dirty face and through his hair.

Did this ever end?

Every day that passed in this place felt like an eternity to him and much to his surprise, this was the first time in the entire month he was ever able to sit down and take a breather, even for a few minutes. Every day was filled with nothing but running for his life, killing every monster that he came in contact with and attempting to stay alive.

Staying alive because Sam needed him topside. He needed him; Dean knew it. Call it big brother instinct, call it what you want, but his baby brother needed him and he needed him alive and well…or as well as he could be under these circumstances. But that didn't matter; he would make it topside, he would find his baby brother and he would be there for him no matter how long it took to get back.

Because Sammy was worth it.

Hearing a loud noise behind him, Dean's hunter's instincts kicked in once more and he was on his feet, ready to face this new batch of vampires.

0000

Sam was silent practically the entire time – unless Dean talked to him, of course – aimlessly picking at his food in front of him, while every now and then turning to stare out the window at the snow storm coming down upon them. For as much as his stomach was growling, he just didn't have much of an appetite, despite that he had ordered his favorite salad…But he needed to eat; he couldn't let Dean's money go to waste, and his big brother was glaring daggers at him from across the booth as he chowed down on his bacon double cheeseburger, so he needed to eat it.

"Got a problem there, Sam?" Dean snapped with his mouth full of his burger, but his stark green eyes never leaving his brother's face,

"You said you were hungry-"

"Sorry, Dean," Sam interrupted quietly,

"I-" 

"Just eat," The oldest Winchester barked just loud enough for their waitress to hear as she made her way towards their table to pour another cup of coffee into Dean's mug. The older brother's gaze never left Sam as he watched him look down at his lap,

"God, Sam, am I going to have to do everything for you now? Am I going to have to put a bib on you and force you to eat?" Snorting, he turned to face the pretty waitress who was still standing at their table, looking back and forth between the two brothers,

"Thanks, sweetheart."

Returning the smile with one of her own, the waitress met Dean's eyes,

"Can I get you boys anything else?"

"You know, now that you mention it, could you possibly get my baby brother here one of those coloring placemats and a box of crayons? It seems like that would interest him more, you know?" He smirked across the table at Sam and, without any warning, kicked Sam's right leg hard, ignoring the grimace of pain that crossed his face,

"Right, Sammy?" He mocked before turning back to the waitress, watching as amusement crossed her pretty features before she attempted to hold back a chuckle at Dean's words,

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding, sweetheart. Could we get the check then?"

Clearing her throat and nodding her head, silently berating herself for having the audacity to laugh at one of her customers, the waitress pulled out the bill from her apron and set it in the middle of the table,

"You two have a pleasant day now."

Feeling his face turn tomato read at what had just happened, and feeling himself starting to grow nauseous, Sam shook his head and felt any and all appetite he could have had leave him. He didn't deserve to eat now, not after having forced his brother to make fun of him in public; he didn't deserve his brother to have paid for his meal to begin with.

"_You selfish, selfish son of a bitch!"_

Dean's words echoed in his head from a few days prior. He was right; he was always right. That's what big brothers were anyways. They were always right, while they're younger sibling was always wrong.

And Sam really was selfish.

Well, he wasn't going to be anymore; and he would start by doing exactly what Dean requested of him without question. He would start that now. He owed that to Dean; he owed it to him after everything he had put him through.

Although his heart was left in shattered remains back at SucroCorp, Sam knew that that didn't matter. It was such a selfish need to even consider wanting to fix that; after all, he didn't deserve it, just as he didn't deserve Dean's love and care.

Suddenly feeling like his stomach twist into knots and feeling like he was going to get sick from the nausea, Sam rose shakily to his feet and mumbled quickly,

"I'll be right back, Dean…" The younger brother raced to the bathroom and fell to his knees, ignoring the shooting pain in his right knee as he collapsed and wrapped his arms around the toilet bowl just as he threw up the little food he had eaten that day.

It would be okay. This was nothing.

Really.

Nothing mattered except for making Dean proud of him in any way possible…except that his brother wasn't proud of him; he most likely hated him.

But Sam didn't blame Dean for it; he never had. He deserved that hate, he deserved more after everything he had done to him. He didn't blame Dean for any of the ways he had hurt him; he never had blamed him and he never would.

"You're such a wuss, Winchester," He mumbled to himself as he leaned his forehead against the toilet seat, feeling his stomach slowly starting to settle down again,

"Get a hold of yourself." Minutes passed as Sam continued to rest against the toilet seat until he finally flushed the toilet and rose to his feet, grabbing onto the door to steady himself against his weak leg.

Hobbling out of the bathroom, his leg screaming in pain, Sam slowly made his way back towards the booth, but as he reached where he had been sitting with his brother, he found the booth empty.

Dean was gone.

And their waitress was standing at the booth, a look of anger written on her face as she turned to face him.

"I hope you're prepared to pay the bill," She barked, grabbing the bill and shoving it into Sam's hands,

"Because your brother left without you…and without paying."

"What?" Sam gasped, looking outside and was greeted by the snow-covered ground…and no Impala in site,

"I'm-"

"You can apologize by paying at the register, sir," She interrupted, speaking to him as if she was talking to a 5-year old,

"Or else I can't let you leave this place." As she turned and walked away, Sam glanced down at the empty booth and noticed that not only was his brother missing, but so was Sam's own jacket. Did Dean take that as well?

Shooting a quick glance across the diner at the angry waitress, Sam lowered himself back into the booth and pulled out his cell phone, hitting speed dial 1 for Dean's number, but was greeted with his phone just ringing and ringing with nobody picking up until it went to voicemail. Choosing not to leave a message – Dean knew what he was doing after all; he always had a reason – Sam snapped his phone shut and pulled out his wallet, hoping against hope that he had enough cash on him to pay their bill.

As he pulled out all the money he had left on him, Sam drew in a trembling breath and let it out slowly. It would all be okay.

Who cared if Dean left him? Dean always knew what he was doing; he always had his reasons and when had he ever been wrong? Plus, he had never told his brother about his knee injury, so how was Dean supposed to know that he was in pain?

_Pain…Who cares about the pain? Push through the pain; don't be such a baby, Sam, _He silently berated himself as he pushed himself up from the booth and hobbled towards the cash register. A few minutes later, Sam found himself standing outside the diner, shivering and staring out at the nearly empty parking lot and the snow coming down harder then ever.

He could do this. It was only a few minutes back to their motel and once he was back, he would apologize to his brother.

Dean deserved at least that much from him.

0000

The minutes that passed since he left the diner turned out feeling more like hours to Sam as he trekked slowly and painfully through the snow, keeping his arms wrapped around himself as he walked…or more like limped. The temperature was dropping and each minute that passed, the younger Winchester was growing colder and colder, while his leg was growing weaker and weaker.

And it was getting much harder to see outside as the snow never stopped falling.

Taking another step on his bad leg, Sam felt yet another sharp pain shooting up his leg and with a scream he couldn't hold in, he collapsed in a heap in the snow. Looking up at the sky and then around him – there was practically nobody driving outside in this weather – Sam gripped his leg with both hands and bit back another scream.

Freaks didn't have the right to scream. Freaks didn't have the right to feel any self-pity…and that was exactly what he was.

So that meant only one thing.

His fingers feeling like ice as he ran them through his dripping wet, snow covered long hair and pushing it out of his eyes, Sam pushed himself to his trembling feet again and continued onward towards their current motel.

At least, he thought he was going in the correct direction.

It was snowing so hard outside now, it was getting harder and harder to see outside and they had only been in this town for a day, so what if he was going the wrong way?

"You'll s-survive," His teeth chattered as he berated himself once again,

"J-J-Just k-keep g-going…" All he had to do was think about Dean; think about Dean and making him proud of him.

Because that had to be why his brother had left him. He was testing him; he was testing him to see if he could survive this, testing him to see if he would do this without complaint or any other bitching on his part.

Sam rubbed his hands together to try and warm himself up, but it was no use; there was no escaping the cold and the wetness around him. How long had it been anyways? How long had he been walking? Glancing down at his watch, not paying any attention to where he was walking, Sam squinted at the time and then shook his head.

Heaven only knew when he had left the diner.

Before he could think any further, Sam soon felt his left leg slip on a black sheet of ice he had stepped on and the next thing he knew, the younger brother felt both legs give out from under him as he collapsed in a heap on the sidewalk covered with nothing but black ice. Immediately feeling nothing but pain now slicing through his left knee and even more pain going through his already injured right, the younger Winchester gasped loudly as he laid on his side on the ice, not trusting himself to move just yet.

If he wasn't in pain before, he was in pain now for sure; BOTH of his legs were now injured.

Cursing at his stupidity as tears made their way from his closed hazel eyes and down his cheeks, Sam wished more then anything that he had that damn gun with him right then so he could put that bullet through his skull like he had intended to do a few days ago. How stupid could he be? Would he ever learn?

More importantly, would his brother ever forgive him for this now? They were in this town on the job and Dean needed him as backup; he needed Sam to watch his back like usual. But how could he do that when he was slipping on sheets of ice and hurting himself?

"You idiot!" He growled to himself as he finally found the strength to push himself up. Still cursing himself as he painfully rose to his feet, Sam went over and over in his head of all the ways he was letting his brother down once again…all because he was being stupid and not paying any attention.

"_You selfish, selfish son of a bitch!"_

Taking the words that Dean had spoken to him and using them as desperation to get moving, Sam painfully placed one foot in front of the other and continued onward, allowing the words to echo endlessly through his brain.

Because they were the truth.

Because Dean was right.

Because Sam was a selfish son of a bitch.

Because Dean said so.

Because Sam refused to allow himself to let his brother down again. Never again.

0000

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N- **This story is **RATED M **for graphic violence and torture – **starting with this chapter, you've been warned **– language of course, and the death of a major character. If any of this bothers you, then this probably isn't the right story to read as I won't be holding back on any of it. The torture that takes place is explicate. I do apologize in advance for the ending, by the way.

**A/N2- **This story is not Castiel-friendly; he is not portrayed in a sympathetic or kind manner, so if this bothers you in any way, then I wouldn't recommend reading this story. I'm putting this out here in every chapter so that people are well aware of this before they continue, so they know what they're getting into, because I will not tolerate any "hate" reviews or PM's (there have been none of those so far, every review has been kind and have made me very happy to read whenever they appear in my Inbox, so I thank everyone who has taken the time to review; they mean a lot to me!). So if y'all are still with me, then let's continue! *wink*

**Chapter 4**

Sam didn't know how much time had passed since the moment he had fallen and injured his other leg up until he walked – or rather limped – through the door of his and Dean's motel room; sure, he had his watch on, but he had no clue what time he had left the diner to begin with.

All he knew was that it was well after midnight and he was freezing; his fingers and toes were like ice – he was sure he had frostbite – and both of his legs felt like they were going to give out from under him at any minute. It was a miracle in itself that he had managed to make it back to the motel without collapsing some more.

Not that he deserved any less, of course, but still…he was in a lot of pain and it took everything in him to not cry out loud when he limped into the warm motel room and practically collapsed on the floor after he had shut the door behind him. Not even bothering to lock the door, as his fingers were burning and stinging, and smearing the salt line by the door, Sam leaned heavily, shakily, against the door and looked around him.

The room was dark and Sam was just able to make out the shadow of his brother's sleeping form in the bed closest to the door. Trembling from head to toe from the cold, the snow covering him melting off of his clothes and onto the carpeted floor, Sam knew he needed to stay as quiet as possible.

He could not wake Dean up.

Dean didn't deserve that; he needed his rest, that's all there was to it.

His entire body screaming in agony, Sam lifted his freezing fingers up and tried to move them, but found it only causing more pain. Biting his lower lip until it started to bleed, the youngest Winchester pushed the agony aside for the moment and went about the task of untying his boots. His toes were more then likely frostbitten as well; they were hurting nearly as bad as his legs.

Shooting quick looks every couple of minutes at his brother to make sure he wasn't waking Dean up, Sam finally was able to kick off his wet boots and, ignoring the way the melted snow was lying in a pool around him, the younger brother forced himself back up into a standing position and after a couple of tries, slowly made his way into the bathroom.

As soon as the door was shut and the light turned on, Sam found himself collapsing back onto the hard floor, his back up against the tub, shaky breaths escaping him.

It could be worse. He had to keep remind himself that.

It could be much worse.

This was nothing.

It was just pain; only pain. He could play through the pain and agony.

He deserved it after all…just like he didn't deserve to have Dean wait for him anyways; he didn't deserve his big brother's love or have him take care of him like he used to. Plus…he could take care of himself, right? This was nothing.

He couldn't let Dean down again; not when his big brother had so many other things to deal with. The last thing he needed was his whining little brother, complaining about something as stupid as the cold and the snow.

Still shaking from head to toe, Sam brought his hands up to his line of vision and inwardly winced at the site. His fingers looked like they had been burned and the swollen skin was covered in blisters. No wonder they hurt like a bitch. Flinching as he attempted to move them to remove his socks, Sam winced and bit back a cry of pain as he forced himself to not cry.

He didn't deserve to cry. No tears. None of that shit.

The next several minutes felt like a couple of hours – or was it a couple of hours? – as Sam forced himself to not throw up at the site of his frostbitten fingers and toes as he carefully and painfully bandaged his hands up…and he wasn't even going to attempt to take a look at his legs. They hurt enough as it was; if he was going to attempt to hide all of this from his big brother, if he was going to attempt like nothing had happened so that he wouldn't let him down any further, then he had to suck it up. He had to force the pain down and ignore it.

It was what Dean would do after all.

And he was sure his brother was testing him…he had to be. He was testing him to make sure he wouldn't let him down…and that was something Sam refused to do.

Because Dean deserved better then that. He deserved better then him.

And if that meant he was going to put aside his own selfish pride and pain – pain that was his own fault after all – then that was something he would do.

0000

Sam jerked awake a couple hours later to the sounds of movement coming from the other room and he blinked his eyes quickly to clear his vision, but as soon as he turned his head and started to push himself up, he was barely able to hold back a cry of pain when white-hot agony shot through his entire body.

Where was he?

Blinking his large, hazel eyes again, Sam moved his head and looked around him and found that he had fallen asleep on the floor of the bathroom and had stayed there the entire night. But why? Looking down at his hands, wondering why they hurt so much, Sam sucked in a sharp breath when he saw the stark white bandages wrapped around both hands and suddenly, memories washed over him of the night before.

The snowstorm. Walking back to the motel from the diner. Falling more then once and injuring both legs. The frostbite. Dean…

"Dean…" He mumbled sleepily to himself as he pushed himself up even more, not allowing himself to cry out from the pain in his hands and his legs. Dean was in the other room; he had to be. It was the only logical explanation for the noise coming from the other side of the wall,

"Dean?" His voice sounded tired to his own ears and he cleared his throat,

"Dean?" With shakiness in his limbs, Sam pulled himself to his feet and forced himself to stay upright despite his damaged legs and frostbitten toes, one hand on the wall and other reaching for the doorknob.

Clumsily opening the door and poking his head out, the youngest Winchester blinked his eyes again and looked up just as he saw his big brother come through the open motel room door and glare angrily at him,

"What the hell is the matter with you, Sam?"

"What?" The word was out of Sam's mouth before he could stop it.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" The oldest Winchester repeated, slamming the door shut, his steel green eyes pinning Sam hard,

"Really, Sam, you couldn't even lock the door when you got back? You also screwed up the salt line!" He gestured to the broken salt line in the doorway and Sam silently cursed himself as he remembered the night before…remembered collapsing right in the doorway and being in so much pain – and being so cold – that he had forgotten two of the most important things.

"I'm-"

"If you say you're sorry one more time, Sam, so help me God," Dean interrupted, crossing the space between them and getting into his little brother's face,

"I don't want to hear it, alright? I don't want to hear any of it." He moved away with a shake of his head and continued to shove the rest of his clothes and gear into his duffel,

"I just hope you won't be disappointing me and letting me down today, like you've done countless times before, Sammy." He hissed, shooting yet another glare Sam's way,

"Think you can manage that?"

"Yeah…of course, Dean," Sam replied quietly with a jerky nod,

"I promise…" Before his big brother's back disappeared out the door once again, Sam called back,

"Dean, where…where are we going?"

"I found us a case," Dean snapped back without turning around,

"In Sioux Falls. Now get your shit together, alright?" He turned back around briefly and arched an eyebrow at his brother, who was shifting from foot to foot and looking down at the floor,

"You know how to do that, right? I don't want to have to babysit you, Sam." Without waiting for a reply, he turned back around and stalked out the door towards the Impala.

His still slightly damp hair falling into his face, Sam nodded his head silently and with his legs screaming in pain, the youngest Winchester forced himself forward and went about the task of shoving all of his personal belongings into his duffel.

He was going to make Dean proud of him again.

He was going to not let Dean down.

He was going to work on earning Dean's trust and love back if it was the last thing he did, no matter how long it took, because his brother deserved it and nothing less. He didn't deserve a screw-up for a little brother.

Sam knew he didn't deserve that forgiveness and love; he knew he didn't deserve any of it, but his brother needed to be happy again. He just had to. And Sam, despite the fact that he was a selfish bastard, he was going to do anything and everything that Dean asked of him.

The pain could wait.

0000

"Goddamnit, Sam, what's taking you so long?" Dean growled from where he stood over the partially open grave a few days later at Mount Pleasant Cemetery, folding his arms across his chest as he glared daggers at his struggling little brother who was in the process of digging towards the remains of their current ghost hunt,

"Seriously, Sam, a grandmother could go faster then you!"

Sam forced back yet another cry of pain as he struggled relentlessly with the shovel and tried with everything in his being to not let his legs give out from under him. This was easy. It was a piece of cake. There was nothing to complain about. Dean needed for him to do the digging so he could keep watch for their current resident ghost that was haunting this graveyard; it was his responsibility to do this and he needed to be quicker. He needed to be faster. Who cared if he was in pain? Biting his lip hard and tightening his grip around the shovel, Sam nodded his head and glanced back up at his brother,

"I'm almost there, Dean-"

"Are you?" Dean interrupted heatedly, kneeling down at the opening of the hole and arching an eyebrow at Sam,

"'Cause it sure doesn't look like it, Sam." With a snort, he waved his hand at his struggling brother,

"Seriously, man, I thought you weren't gonna let me down on this case? Because really, you're not doing that good of a job!" He smirked as he watched Sam attempt to move quicker,

"You selfish bastard."

Forcing back a round of tears at the words, Sam instead just nodded his head wordlessly and continued digging until his shovel finally hit the solid coffin,

"Got it, Dean!" A few more minutes passed as Sam struggled with the coffin,

"I think I-"

"Gimme a break there, Sam," Dean snapped from where he was still crouched at the top of the hole in the ground,

"Either you've got it or you don't!" Instead of getting an answer, all he heard was the sound of a loud groan coming from down below,

"Now what's your problem? We don't have all day here, Sammy; that spirit's gonna get mighty pissed if you keep taking your sweet time!"

Unable to hold back the cry any longer as his legs gave out from under him, the pain now getting even more intense the longer he was standing, Sam cursed himself as he fell flat on his stomach,

"Shit!" Raising his voice so Dean could hear him, he cried up to his brother, lifting his hazel eyes upwards to meet Dean's,

"It'll be fine, Dean-"

"Then get off your ass and move it, alright? Or am I gonna have to come down there and help you?" Dean demanded, finally rising to his feet, but his angry green eyes never leaving the younger Winchester, who still lay on the ground, struggling to get up,

"You big baby…" He mumbled to himself,

"Fine, I'm comin' down…" He rolled his eyes to the night sky and picked up the second shovel that was resting beside him and as soon as Sam was looking away from him, he allowed a smirk to cross his face and his eyes flashed with nothing but murderous rage. Taking careful aim, Dean leaped down into the open ground towards Sam, shovel outstretched.

Just as Sam was about to turn back around to look up at his brother as he heard a noise above him, he was taken by complete surprise when he felt a hard pressure coming down on his damaged legs and a white-hot piercing pain shooting through his entire lower half. His head spinning and seeing stars as he blinked his eyes, Sam felt nothing but excruciating pain as he felt himself growing dizzier and dizzier before he collapsed.

0000

Dean's face twisted into a smug grin as he rose to his feet again and looked down at the damage done on Sam's legs. The shovel that had been in his hand when he had jumped into the open ground was now sticking straight up in the white bone that was protruding from Sam's right leg and with a smirk, he looked over at his left and saw more white bone protruding from his knee.

He had made sure when he had jumped to land straight on the youngest Winchester's already damaged legs, thus shattering the bones beyond repair. Dean wasn't stupid; he wasn't stupid in his other life either…that was proven obvious when he remembered just what he had done to his real brother.

He was the smart brother. And that was going to be proven when he started what he had set out to do the moment Castiel had called upon him to distract this present-day Sam Winchester. Dean knew the angel didn't really care what he would do, as long as the boy was distracted…and distracted he would be.

Hunting wasn't something Sam would ever think about again once he was done with him.

He knew that Sam believed him to be his real brother; he was so depressed and suicidal at the moment and he was taking anything he could get. The younger boy might soon come to the realization that he wasn't really Dean once he found out what was planned for him, but that was alright; that didn't matter at the moment. All that mattered was getting Sam to the place he needed to be…the same place he had taken his real little brother when he had killed him.

And once he was done with him, Sam was going to forget ever knowing what being loved and cared for even looked like.

0000

What day was it? What time was it? How much time had passed? Those questions were spinning around in the youngest Winchester's brain as he attempted to open his eyes, but found them to be heavy each time he tried. Just as he was swimming back to consciousness however, all that greeted him was pain and agony…and more pain and agony.

The first jolt of pain he was clear of was the pain in both of his legs and then, as he tried to move, he felt a slicing pain shoot through his skull as well. What had happened? Where was Dean?

Dean.

"D…" He sluggishly was able to get out just the first letter of his big brother's name and with a lick of his lips, Sam attempted again,

"D'n…?" He attempted to move again, but found that this time however, he was being held back physically…but by what? And where was Dean? He tried to move his legs, but as soon as he moved them even an inch, white-hot agony pain that he had never felt before shot through his muscles and he let out a loud scream that he couldn't hold back this time. What a big baby he was; what would Dean think of him if he found him screaming like this? Speaking of which…Dean still hadn't answered him,

"Dean…where…are you…?"

"Ah, he awakens. It's about time."

Sam blinked his eyes, his vision blurred slightly as he attempted to move his head where the familiar voice was coming from,

"Dean?"

"You know, for a moment there I thought I hit you in the head so hard, I might have killed you!" Dean chuckled humorlessly as he came directly into Sam's line of vision,

"I can't have that now, can I?"

"What?" Sam weakly replied, blinking his large, hazel eyes once again to clear his vision. Once he was able to see, he looked around him and his breath caught in his throat as he recognized where he was…the charred remains of Bobby Singer's old panic room…or what was left of it. It was barely recognizable to those who had ever been down to the panic room before, but Sam – who had been locked down there so many times in the past – would recognize it anywhere. Even though the room was charred beyond recognition from the fire nearly a year ago, the familiar fan was still visible as well as the burned remains of the sigils Dean and Bobby and placed around the very room,

"D-Dean…?" Weakly moving his arms, Sam felt himself once again being held back and as he looked down at himself, his heart started racing as he noticed he was bound completely in chains. His arms – the bandages on his hands from the frostbite completely removed – were spread like an eagle on either side of him, hard, metal cuffs clamped on his wrists and attached to the wall of room. Chains after chains were also attached to the wall, circling his entire body and locking him in so that he could barely move. Clearing his throat as much as he could, Sam looked down at his lower body – at the reason for the searing pain coursing through him – and nearly cried out loud when he saw his useless legs spread out in front of him; his jeans, shoes and socks were all gone, leaving him in just his boxers and a gray t-shirt and Sam felt his stomach turn when he saw the white bone sticking out from both of his legs, which were also covered in a pool of blood,

"What's…happening…Dean?" He looked back up at his big brother and saw the smirk that was being directed at him. Suddenly, it all seemed to come together and the youngest boy shook his head as realization set in,

"Y-You're not…Dean…are you?"

Clapping his hands and nodding his head, Dean knelt down at eye-level with Sam and allowed his smirk to grow wider,

"I was wondering when you would figure it out, Sammy! Took you long enough!" When Sam didn't reply, but just lowered his head in shame and despair, Dean continued on and picked up the large blade that was lying right beside them,

"Course, this ended up turning out better then I had expected, you know? I mean, with your real brother locked in Purgatory and you down here…really, Castiel couldn't have picked a better time to have me come down here and do this all over again."

"W-What do you mean?" Sam stuttered, not daring to move his eyes to meet Dean's…or rather, this other version of Dean.

"I'm from a different lifetime, Sam," Dean explained, smiling brightly as if he was telling a story of the best day of his life,

"I killed my little brother in my universe. You know what that means, right? That means I killed you. I killed you in this very same room, in the panic room, but before that, I took my time with the torture, you know?" His smile widened as he winked,

"And when I say torture…I mean torture." His smile disappeared as he noticed Sam not meeting his eyes. With a harsh glare, he raised his hand and slapped Sam straight across the face, startling him,

"Hey! I'm talking to you! Look at me when I'm talking to you, you hear me, you selfish son of a bitch?" His smile returned when Sam's eyes looked directly into his own,

"That's more like it."

"Dean?"

"You're brother's long gone, kiddo," Dean shrugged carelessly,

"He ain't coming back for you; he's trapped in Purgatory and Castiel sent me to do the dirty work for him. But then again…you already know that you deserve it, don't you?" When Sam didn't nod his head immediately, Dean raised his hand once more and slapped the other side of his face, the force of the strike snapping his head to the side,

"Right?" Dropping the blade he was clutching in his hand, Dean grasped onto the sides of the younger Winchester's face and forced him to look back at him; pained, large, hazel eyes staring into hateful, green ones.

"R-right," Sam stuttered, fear coursing through his veins as he made no attempt to escape the chains bounding him or from Dean's hand striking him. He was right; he did deserve it. He deserved all of it. Hell, his real brother was much better off without him, wherever he was – Purgatory or not, it didn't matter. He was more of a danger to his big brother then any of those monsters down there,

"Y-You're right…"

"Of course I'm right," Dean snapped back, releasing Sam's face and settling back onto his heals,

"Now, let's on with it, shall we?" He nodded down to Sam's damaged legs and then, with a not-so-gentle hand, touched the white bone protruding from the younger brother's right leg. He smiled when a bone-chilling scream escaped Sam's mouth,

"You see these right here, Sammy? These are pretty much useless now."

Trying with everything in him to not whimper – or worse, cry – Sam bit his lip hard until he tasted blood and closed his eyes as he nodded his head in agreement. Dean – or fakeDean – was right; both of his legs were useless, the bones were shattered…he was positive about it. He had been walking on them for over a month now, back when he had first injured his right knee after Dick Roman's demise, and now they were beyond repair. If it was any other time, his big brother would have taken him to a hospital for certain, but that was back during the time before he had betrayed Dean…back when he might have deserved his love and care.

No wonder Castiel had sent this version of Dean.

But that was okay; it didn't matter anymore.

Any version of his brother was better then nothing; he deserved nothing less and his real brother probably would have said "Fuck it" anyways. He deserved that…and then some.

Pain slicing through him once again as Dean moved to touch the bone sticking out of his left leg, Sam let out another scream and tilted his head back until it hit the wall. Fuck! No matter how much he tried to force himself to not scream, to not allow himself to show that he was hurting, it was getting nearly impossible; how was he supposed to hold the screams in?

"You do know that I'm going to have to take care of this now, right?" Dean arched both eyebrows and waited until Sam looked his way, fear and terror written all over his face,

"You don't deserve it; you never have. Right?" When Sam didn't reply, but instead saw a lone tear snake down his cheek, Dean glared angrily in his direction and struck him across the face once more,

"What did I say about looking at me?"

"I'm…I'm sorry…"

"Fuck your apologies, Sammy," Dean sneered in disgust, letting the nickname drip from his tongue,

"Just answer me when I talk to you and we'll make this as painless as possible. Now…just so you know, we might not have had to do this if you hadn't have been in the way in the graveyard to begin with, so this is your fault, Sam. You hear me? You were in the way when I tried to help you, so none of this is my fault, you got it?"

"I'm-" Before the words could escape Sam's lips, however, the next thing he felt was a punch right in the nose and the youngest Winchester felt a trickle of blood drip from his nose to his mouth.

"What did I just say, Sam?" Dean snapped once more, shaking his fist in Sam's face,

"Now, what I'm about to do, I'm doing it for you; I'm doing you a favor. You hear that? It's a favor." He backed up a step and shrugged his shoulders,

"Of course, it's also your fault, but what else is new? Everything's your fault, right, Sammy?"

"Yes…" The younger boy croaked out as his eyes watched Dean pick up the blade once again…what was that for anyways? Why was Dean holding it in his hands like he was getting ready to take a swing at him? But then again…why was he even questioning it? Dean knew what he was doing…even if this was a fake version of his brother, it was still Dean; he always had his best intentions in mind, even if they hurt him. But still, was Dean doing to do what he thought he was going to do?

"You know what this is for, Sam," Dean smirked, his green eyes showing nothing but hatred and sick fascination,

"Those legs…" He shook his head in mock sympathy,

"They can't stay. I'm going to have to do something about them; it's what any hospital would do anyways." He reached behind Sam and tested the chains and metal clamps around Sam's wrists to make sure they were nice and tight,

"These are here so you can't move and fight me, because this sure isn't gonna feel good, kiddo, alright?"

Sam's heart was racing rapidly in his chest as he moved his eyes away from Dean and looked back and forth between his chained hands and tested them again; Dean was right, they really were on nice and tight. There was no escaping, even if he deserved to escape. Sweat formed on his brow and he leaned his head against what was left of the wall, mentally preparing himself for the torture that he was about to receive…the torture that was sure to come any moment.

"Dean…please…" He closed his eyes; he just wanted to get this over and done with. If Dean was really going to chop his legs off-

Before he could finish with his plea to this fake version of his brother, the next thing Sam felt was a pain unlike any he had ever felt in his entire life, a pain that mirrored the pain he went through in Lucifer's Cage; a pain that shot straight through him that would make any other type of physical pain he had ever experienced seem like a walk in the park. A scream tore through Sam's throat and he was unable to hold back the tears in his eyes as he felt the blade slice right through skin and bone.

0000

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N- **Just like before…this story is **RATED M **for graphic, disturbing torture and violence and of course, language. If this bothers you in anyway – as I won't be holding back – then this probably isn't the story for you to read. **I do apologize in advance for what I'm doing to poor Sammy! **

**A/N2- **This story is **NOT **Castiel friendly in any way, shape or form; he is presented in an un-sympathetic manner, so once again, if you are a fan of his and this would bother you, then please take that warning into consideration because hate reviews and PM's will not be welcome. Those of you who can handle that, then by all means…I would love for you to read and reviews are always welcome! Thank you to everyone who has been so kind so far!

**Chapter 5**

Dean couldn't believe his ears.

There had never been a time in his existence where he had ever considered working with a supernatural creature like this – a vampire – no matter how desperate he was. Sure, he and Sam had come across a pack of animal-eating vampires in the past, but that didn't mean that he had to like them or even trust them; it just meant that they were innocent when it came to killing people and didn't deserve to be beheaded.

But working with one? When had he ever considered that? Never. Just like he had never considered befriending one either. His first instinct had always been to kill them.

Shoot first, ask questions later.

It was what the oldest Winchester brother had been trained to do and that was what he was currently doing while trapped in Purgatory.

But now? This was an unusual situation, to put it mildly. Here, he was now faced with the option of possibly escaping…but only if he allowed this vampire in front of him to join him.

"What else do you want?" Dean growled as he held the machete tightly in his grasp and held it protectively in front of him, ready to strike and swing just in case this vampire – what the hell was his name? – decided to pull anything stupid,

"You want something else, I know you do."

The vampire rolled his eyes and tilted his head back, laughing long and hard before just shaking his head as he met Dean's eyes,

"Oh, you Winchesters always assume the worst, don't you?"

"What would you do if you were me?" Dean demanded with a furious glare, not once releasing his grip on the machete,

"Because really, you were human once; I'm not stupid. I've only come across a small handful of you in my life where you DIDN'T want something…so spit it out. What do you want?" He took a tentative step closer, arching an eyebrow when the vampire never moved from where he stood,

"I'm surprised you're not scared that I might kill you."

Shrugging his shoulders carelessly, the vampire smirked at the glaring hunter in front of him,

"That's because I know you won't do it, especially when you know that I might know of a way to get out of here…I also know your brother is your weak spot, Winchester, so you will do anything to get back to him, won't you?" He arched an eyebrow again as Dean's glare hardened.

"What do you know about Sammy?" The older brother hissed, taking another step closer,

"Because so help me God if you-"

"Woah, woah, Winchester, I know nothing of Sam, alright?" The vampire's smirk left his face and was replaced with seriousness,

"I just happen to know about you two. Bonnie to your Clyde, am I right? Now, I don't know if your brother's alright or not while he's topside and your down here, but I do know what you want to get back to him." He met Dean's hard green eyes,

"Right?"

"Just tell me what else you want." Dean was growing more and more impatient as the seconds ticked by. The longer they spent talking and the less time they spent trying to escape, the longer he was away from his baby brother – who was alone – and that just wasn't acceptable.

"I told you. I don't want anything. I just want to get back up topside and I've been searching of ways to get out in the years I've been here and now that there's a human down here…it's the perfect opportunity," He held out his hand,

"There's no ulterior motive, I swear." He watched as Dean's eyes moved from his face back to his hand and then back again,

"The name's Benny, by the way." As Dean stepped closer and hesitantly clasped onto his hand, giving it a quick shake, Benny smiled and kept his fangs back as he continued,

"You with me?"

"If that's what it takes to get back to my brother."

And Dean was willing to do anything. No matter what it took.

0000

Sam had no idea how long it had been since he had passed out from the excruciating pain flowing through his entire body; he had no idea if days or just hours or minutes had passed. All he knew was that he was completely alone inside of his head…except of course for the never-ending words flowing through his brain.

"_Monster, Sam. You're a monster."_

"_It means you're a monster."_

"_You're nothing to me."_

"_You selfish, selfish son of a bitch."_

"_You're a monster."_

"_Monster."_

"It's what you are, Sammy, and you know it." The words were closer then ever to the youngest Winchester now, but Sam couldn't see anything or anybody around him – only blackness. But that was Dean's voice, so where was his brother? If he was inside his head, then how was his brother speaking to him so clearly now?

"C'mon, buddy, you know you wanta wake up. You know you wanta come back to the land of the living!"

Sam felt himself practically floating as the words got louder and louder in his ear and just as he attempted to peal his eyes open, he felt a sharp hand strike him across the face and he was unable to hold back a low moan at the impact. Squeezing his eyes shut even tighter, Sam bit his lower lip hard. He knew he was coming back to reality, but what had just happened? Why was he in so much agonizing pain? Where was he?

"Hey!" The same voice – Dean's voice – sounded loudly in his ear again and soon felt a hand gripping his hair and yanking him forwards,

"Wakey wakey, rise and shine, sunshine!"

Another slap. Then another.

Sam attempted to move his arms, but found that he was unable to; they were yanked upwards and bound tightly to something…something hard and uncomfortable and even painful. He flexed his fingers and jerked his arms once more, but found that whatever was holding him back was strong and secure. Actually, now that he was starting to come back to the land of the living, his entire body was bound and he could barely move even a few inches.

Even though it hurt, Sam attempted to once more peal his eyes open and look around him, but was instead greeted with his brother's face staring straight at him from above, a smirk on his face and his eyes showing nothing but pure hatred.

Hatred directed at him.

That's right. Because he deserved it.

Memories soon began to come back to him like a flood as he stared into Dean's – okay, not really Dean's – flashing, green eyes, but was unable to even open his mouth to speak as that same excruciating pain shot through him like wild fire all over again. Lowering his gaze, which was slightly blurry, Sam looked down at the lower half of his body, at the place where most of the pain was coming from and nearly threw up at the site before him.

Because his legs were gone.

Gone.

Chopped off above the knee, sewn up – probably after he had passed out – and blood left over from the amputation splattered onto the hard wood, chipped floor. A large blade rested near Dean…right where the shattered remains of what used to be his legs rested.

Realizations and more memories swam over the younger man as he recalled earlier having shattered the bones in both of his legs and being taken…here. The remains of Bobby's panic room…the place he never wanted to set his eyes on again.

But he deserved to be here, because Dean said it was all his fault; that he was a monster, a pathetic, low-life monster who deserved nothing less. And even though he knew that this version of his brother wasn't exactly his brother – who did he say he was? – it was still Dean and no matter what, his brother never lied to him, fake version or not. Feeling fresh tears well up in his pain-filled eyes, Sam grimaced as he felt Dean's hand tighten on his hair and jerk him forward before his breath was nearly taken away when he felt his head connect hard with the wall he was chained to.

"You with me now, monster?"

Whimpering in pain, Sam closed his large, hazel eyes and nodded his head, but felt a punch to his jaw in reply.

"Answer me, you son of a bitch!"

"Y-Yes…" He stuttered in reply, finally finding what little strength he had to open his eyes and look up at this version of his big brother,

"Yes…"

"Good." Dean finally released the hold on his hair and stepped back with a nod of his head, the smirk never leaving the face that looked just like Sam's real brother,

"Now, there's a few things you need to be aware of before we continue." He walked over to a fallen over table that had somehow managed to survive the fire and flipped it over, scraping it across the floor until it was closer to Sam,

"Rule number one: No talking unless I tell you to talk, monster."

Unable to stop the cringe from escaping him at the mention of the word "monster" again, Sam clamped his pain-filled eyes shut,

"I don't-"

Before he could even ask the question however, he felt a liquid being splashed on him and he nearly gagged as he felt the familiar taste enter his mouth…the taste of the very thing he had spent way too long trying to get out of his system and not be addicted to.

Demon blood.

Dean had just splashed demon blood on him and it was now dripping from his hair and arms, down his t-shirt and onto the floor he was sitting on. He let out a harsh gasp as he attempted to spit what was in his mouth out, but before he could do that however, he felt the fake version of his brother's hand clamp over his mouth to hold it in.

It reminded him way too much of that time when demon blood had been forced down his throat after he had started the Apocalypse.

Not that he didn't deserve it of course, but the memory was still quite clear and it still terrified him to this day.

Of course, he deserved this, too.

Unable to hold back a whimper as Dean's hand remained clamped on his mouth, he stopped struggling when the familiar voice whispered into his ear,

"You drink this, and you're gonna enjoy it, monster. You're gonna enjoy it so much. Trust me, you don't want to know what will happen if you don't drink it." He kept his hand clamped over Sam's mouth and watched with glee as pain contorted the youngest Winchester's features

"That's it…taste that?" He moved one hand down to Sam's throat and squeezed,

"Drink it, you bastard!" His roared, his voice echoing in the burned down panic room, the words bouncing off of what was left of the walls. Another smirk graced his features as he saw tears snaking down Sam's cheeks before and as he started to release the hold he had around the younger boy's throat, he watched as Sam swallowed slowly,

"Now see, was that so hard?" With a harsh hand, he patted Sam on the cheek before taking his other hand and slapping him across the face,

"Next time, you do what I say, when I say it!" Backing away, he kept his eyes on Sam as he sagged against the chains trapping him before he turned around to walk over to the other side of the room where a large backpack sat. Rummaging through it for a moment, he pulled out a toolbox and set it on the nearby rusted table,

"Now, on to our next line of business, shall we?" He waited for a few seconds to see if Sam would speak, but when the younger boy only just lifted his head to stare at him, Dean nodded his head,

"That's right. You keep that mouth of yours shut until I say you can open it."

Once again unable to stop the words from coming out of his mouth as he watched Dean pull out a large knife, Sam opened his mouth and quickly asked, already preparing himself for yet another punch to his nose just for speaking,

"What's that for…?" The words came out quickly and mumbled due to the agonizing pain he was in.

"What did I just say about keeping that trap shut?" Dean shouted, moving forward quickly and getting right into Sam's face, holding the knife right up to him so that it was right up to his eyeball, satisfaction flowing through him as he saw the younger man attempt to flinch back, but the chains held firm,

"That's right." He moved the knife so that it was barely touching Sam's eye,

"Monsters should be scared of this. Monsters deserve everything that you're getting." Moving his green eyes towards Sam's shirt, he arched an eyebrow before moving the knife down to slice through the t-shirt, tearing it to shreds and watching as the torn pieces got caught in the chains,

"MONSTERS…" He stopped as he grabbed the shredded remains of the shirt, untangling them from the chains, and tossed them aside,

"Monsters don't even deserve clothes…like YOU."

Shivers ran through Sam's body, the temperature dropping even more as he eyed his torn t-shirt. He watched as Dean tossed it onto the table with the toolbox and then squatted down in front of him, the knife still gripped tight in his hand,

"You'll learn eventually." His eyes held nothing but hatred, any and all love that could possibly be hidden deep within those depths lost forever. But that was alright. Because Sam deserved it; the youngest Winchester brother knew it. He had probably known it all along, long before he had ever screwed up his big brother's life.

Lowering his gaze down to the knife, keeping his mouth shut this time as he wasn't about to let this version of his brother down as well, Sam tried to not look at his legs that were no longer there, but soon felt the tip of the knife pointing right under his chin and felt his head being risen to look directly into Dean's face,

"You wanta know something?" He smiled brightly as if he was delivering some of the best news ever,

"Your friend Castiel knows full well what I'm doing to you and what I'm going to be doing to you. He did send me here, after all, to do the dirty work again. He paid me a visit while you were passed out on the floor after our little surgery." He nodded down at what was left of Sam's legs,

"He told me to keep doing what I'm doing because it's necessary." His smile widened as Sam blinked his hazel eyes quickly to force back any tears and tried to not let the sadness show on his face,

"You're pathetic, you know that?" Dean nodded his head as Sam shakily nodded in reply,

"Pathetic. Weak. A monster who deserves every last ounce of pain I'm going to dish out on you. And we're just getting started, kiddo!" Rising to his feet and tossing the knife down on the table, Dean pushed it aside and walked back over to his backpack, pulling out a bottle filled with red liquid,

"Now. Rule number two: You will eat and drink anything and everything that I dish out to you, no complaint." He shook the bottle up and held it up to Sam's line of vision,

"I'm sure you know what this is, right?"

Shaking his head at the familiar red liquid he was finding himself staring out, Sam, still drenched in the blood that had been splashed on him, trembled madly as he whimpered,

"Please…not that…"

Sighing and rolling his eyes in annoyance, Dean walked over to the table and slammed the bottle of demon blood down and glared down at Sam,

"You know you'll have to pay for that, right?" Without waiting for any type of answer, he walked back over to the far wall that was charred beyond recognition and picked up a small bucket,

"You'll learn the rules eventually, but until then, you're going to have to pay every time to break one of them, understand?" He set the bucket down close to Sam, but far enough away so that he couldn't lean forward to see what was inside of it,

"You'll know soon enough that you were never a human being to begin with. You were never loved, you were never cared about; your entire family hated you because you were a monster. It was how you were born. It was what I finally realized when I returned from Hell in my own world and had to kill my own brother, you know? Everything that has ever happened…it was all your fault, it was always your fault." Dean nodded down at the bucket resting beside him,

"Now, repeat after me."

"Wha-?" Sam uttered, his voice trembling with terror, but also filled with the utmost despair.

"Repeat. After. Me." Dean repeated, narrowing his eyes dangerously,

"I am a monster."

"I-I am a monster."

"I am a freak."

"I am a freak…" Sam repeated once again, his voice getting lower and lower with each word.

"I deserve this." Dean growled, sticking his face right into Sam once again,

"Say it. You deserve it."

"I deserve this…"

"Good." Dean rose to his feet and, without warning, picked up the bucket that was resting beside them and tossed the bubbling, burning liquid at Sam's face. A smile graced his features as he watched the younger man gasp harshly and attempt to turn his head to the right just as the bubbling acid hit the left side of his face. A scream tore through the air and it was music to Dean's ears as he folded his arms across his chest,

"There's plenty more where that came from, monster. Do anything like what you've done again and it'll just get worse. Remember that."

As the screams soon turned into painful cries, and the cries turned back into screams, a lone figure unseen to the human eye watched from a safe distance in the remains of Bobby's panic room, dark eyes watching the scenario play out. Good. Dean had done what he was supposed to do. It was necessary and all he could hope was that once the real Dean Winchester returned from Purgatory – hopefully not for a long time – he would understand.

He had to understand. It was the only option.

He was doing this to save the world, that's all there was to it; he was delivering this soulless, alternate universe version of Dean Winchester to Sam and forcing this upon him for the greater good and if the real Dean didn't see that…well, then that wasn't Castiel's problem and if he got pushed from the older, over-protective brother, well, then he would figure that out when the time came.

Until then, it just was not his problem. Sam was not his problem.

He had never been his problem.

With a nod of his head, he soon disappeared from the room, ignoring the cries of pain coming from the youngest boy trapped inside that very room.

0000

TBC


End file.
